


Vampires Will Never Hurt You (But I Might)

by Rushar



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood, Fluff, Halloween sort of, Horror, I don't even know what am I doing with my life, Knives, M/M, Mental Torture, Murder, Nightmares, No Smut, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rushar/pseuds/Rushar
Summary: Organized, mission oriented serial killers.A dark, abandoned mansion.And garnet drops in the light of a crescent moon, dark against his skin, dark against shadows, dark against his teeth.
-ZeRoyalChaos because why not I guess?? I dunno, I only started watching them a lot a week or so ago but they're great so I wrote this in like three hours. Don't judge me.-





	1. Chapter 1

Blood dripped slowly from Ze’s fingers and the serial killer watched the scarlet beads splatter on the cobbled ground like a symphony of rain.  His accomplice wiped his hands on his hat, perfectly colored so that no one could see the layers on layers on dried blood from the months of previous murders.  Their latest victim, a member of an ill-intended gang, was now just a carcass on the sunset ruins in which a supposed anonymous source was going to deliver inside information about the local government officers.  Unfortunately for that person, it was just a trap and he had played right into Ze’s hands.

Although, Ze couldn’t take much credit for the actual design and execution of the plan.  That honor would have to be given to his partner, Chilled.  Although Chilled wasn’t much older than Ze himself – both being relatively young to have killed so many people already – he was an expert planner.  He was a calculating psychopath when involving the scene of a crime, but a charming, delightful person out in the sunlight.  He was so innocent, someone no one would never expect to have blood on his hands, much like Ze.

But both had no humor in their eyes as they cleaned their hands using a couple of white rags, blotchy with orangey-brown stains.  Ze ran his tongue over his canines, tasting the sharp taste of clean mint toothpaste and old cigarettes, but below that even was a metallic tang from the last victim, a week ago.  After this, they would have to hide for a while to avoid capture.  Even though they purposefully picked targets that would have a low or undercover profile from the law anyway, the word might get around to the police and suspicions would be raised.  Then they would be forced to move and start completely over, an operation that was both risky and time consuming to collect new data on the area and scout out murder grounds that were rarely visited.

“If you’ll take care of the body, I’ll bleach the ground,” Ze said, licking his teeth again.  “The lake a mile southwest.  Do you need the wagon to take it?”

“A mile?  Of course I do,” Chilled snorted, scrubbing at some blood on his cheek.  “I’m not dragging a corpse all through the grounds on my own at midnight – fuck!  I got blood in my hair!”  He huffed and gave up with trying to clean off his face and grabbed the body under its arms as Ze went into the abandoned mansion to fetch the gardening wagon they used to cart corpses to some of the locations where it could safely be disposed of.  The lake was hidden deep within the overgrown grounds of the property and it was murky enough that no one would ever venture into it and find the multiple carcasses that Ze and Chilled had tossed in it.  After giving it over to his partner and helping to drag the cadaver into the wagon, Chilled set off through the dew-streaked terrain, shaking still-wet droplets of blood from his fingertips.

Ze went back into the house to retrieve the hidden bleach, tucked beneath a rotting board inside the broken-down entranceway.  The house, once a regal looking estate called Sunset Gardens, had fallen into disrepair when the owner’s wife and son had been slaughtered in front of his very eyes.  The owner himself had been strung up from a balcony like a piece of meat, hands tied and throat slit just enough to keep him from crying out for help but without dying.  He had almost choked on his blood by the time the maid found the remains of the family the next day but later, he had died at the hospital.  Ze was fascinated by the tragic story, reading about it as a national news story when he was just ten.  Growing up in a secluded household where he was largely ignored by everybody, Ze was left to make his own conclusion on the subject.  When he was older and stumbled across the same subject, he dug deeper and found that the whole family was part of an elaborate drug business.  It had inspired him.

Ze had killed his first person when he was nineteen years old, a drug dealer that was notorious for escaping the law.  It took nothing more than a pretty penny to lure him into an abandoned and rotting building where Ze cornered him with a hunting knife.  Unable to scream for help and risk his own capture, the dealer was forced to meet his fate dead in the eye.  As far as Ze knew, the body was still hidden in the basement of that very building, never to meet the light of day while there was still decaying flesh on his bones.

Bleach poured onto the stained stone, filling the cracks with harsh smelling chemicals that burned Ze’s eyes and nose.  Evidence was burned away and Ze emptied the container until not a single splatter of scarlet still was visible on the cobble.  He heard the faint footsteps and gentle creaks of the wagon that symbolized Chilled’s return and looked up to see his accessary pulling the wagon and tugging his hat back on.  His gaze was dark and his eyes flitted towards Ze with a strange look.  Before he could think about it anymore, Chilled was already brushing past him to hide the wagon once again.  Ze shrugged and followed, tossing the jug of bleach to the side to throw away later.  He may have been a serial killer, but he wasn’t going to litter and leave evidence.

Inside, the moon barely seeped through the cracks in the walls but there was a portion of the roof that had completely fallen through and the crescent moon’s light strained to gather in a pool at the feet of Chilled who was standing straight, chin up and eyes closed as he slowly unbuttoned his white dress shirt.  Some people wouldn’t understand why they wore white shirts, but it was easier to bleach away the stains and cheaper than buying a multitude of dark clothes to wear especially for killing.  Usually, they had a tin washtub in every location to do it as soon as they disposed of the body so they did it on the site.  Ze swallowed as he stood in the shadows, eyeing Chilled’s toned figure.  While his accomplice may not have been the strongest or the most fit of people, that certainly didn’t mean Chilled wasn’t attractive. 

Ze wasn’t one to fuck every person he came across and he knew that Chilled was maintaining a healthy relationship with a girlfriend outside of his work, but he was having a hard time resisting the temptation that was so nicely laid out for him right here.  He ran his tongue over his teeth.  A nervous habit; but he now he badly wanted to sink his teeth into Chilled’s skin like a vampire, then lick away the blood.

“I know you’re watching, Ze,” Chilled called out with his back to Ze, broad shoulders defined against the dim light.  “You’ve never made a secret of it before.  Why now?”

Ze didn’t answer but stepped forwards until he was standing behind Chilled.  He was like a statue, barely breathing and not moving, even as Ze put his hands on his shoulders and slowly moved his mouth towards Chilled’s neck.  Chilled’s gentle breath hitched as Ze’s teeth grazed over his neck, angled so that it was just barely tugging against his skin.  A cool wind was against Ze’s hands as he turned Chilled around so that they were facing each other, chests pressed close.

“I want so much from you,” Ze’s canines rested just next to Chilled’s pulse point.  “Not just a quick fuck.  I want your laugh, your smile, your eyes, I want them all to belong to me.  Why won’t you give them to me?”

“I don’t want you,” Chilled murmured, even as he tilted his head back, closing his dark brown doe eyes.  Ze dug his teeth into his pulse point, drawing blood from the artery.  It was like a switch in Ze’s mind as the world slowed down so that the focus was only on the garnet red beads.  He could barely feel Chilled’s hands against his stomach, or the syncopated gasps.  But when Chilled stepped away, a low whine rumbled from Ze’s throat as he stared at his accomplice.

Chilled’s eyes were wide open now but partially obscured by his hat which had fallen over his face.  His breathing was erratic but shallow, trained not to call attention to his fear.  But Ze could spot all the signs.  Chilled was afraid of him and what he could do.

“Oh, what’s the matter?  Can’t handle a little blood?” Ze smirked and sidled over to where Chilled was standing.  For every step Ze took forwards, Chilled took back, until he was stumbling into the shadows and falling through the half-decayed floor with a tiny huff of breath, his only true sign of fear.  “I thought you cared about me more than that, _Anthony_.”

Chilled flinched at the use of his real name, an unspoken agreement that they had was to never use real names while on the crime scene but Ze was beyond caring.  A maniacal cloud was obscuring his mind, focusing in on only one word, resounding like a heartbeat.

_Blood_.

Ze grabbed a knife from the arsenal he kept in a case he had slung over his shoulders and twirled it around.  A trailing point knife, designed for thin slices and delicate work such as cutting off skin, it had always been one of Ze’s favorites, but least used.  It wasn’t one for quick or dirty work.  He had only used it once before, right after he first met Chilled.  His target back then had also had large, dark eyes, and scruffy facial hair.  It was also the only time Ze had ever tortured and raped his victim, pretending it was the young, attractive man he had an eye on.  His longing had only increased after that second, leading up to this one moment.

Heart pounding and eyes narrowed, Ze never took his gaze off Chilled as he slowly glided closer with feather light steps.  Chilled was paralyzed in fright, watching with those huge eyes of his as Ze tilted the knife down and brought it forwards with a smooth movement.  Down the carotid artery, along the collarbones, a thin line spread.  Two thin slices along each arm, a small dip into the jugular notch, and Chilled was gasping, desperately reaching his arms up, clinging to Ze.  A silent plea to stop, asking for help.  At this point, it was more psychological torture than physical pain.

Ze wasn’t heartless.  After a few more thin scratches that traced Chilled’s ribs, each one growing in depth, he tucked away the knife, without bothering to clean off the blood.  A knife was not more important than Chilled’s health.  Gently, Ze helped him stand again, smaller dashes of blood lining his sides from the splintered floorboards he had fallen through.  Chilled’s eyes were flickering, the emotional and physical trauma sending him into a mental state of shock.  It was a silent process as Ze led Chilled back to their car, parked down the road from the mansion, and got a towel from the backseat to hold to his worse wounds.  Ze’s bag went behind his seat and he started the car, the nearly silent engine humming to life.  Chilled wasn’t looking at him, head turned towards the windows.  He watched the world go by, streetlights flashing dimly out of view as they passed, driving towards Ze’s place.

Fingers _tap-tap-tapped_ on the wheel, the radio turned to a quiet static crackle.  Only a few other headlights drove by in the opposite direction and by the time Ze got to his apartment, Chilled was mostly asleep, his head lolling and his mouth slightly open.  When Ze opened the door, Chilled woke up at the noise, looking around before recognizing his surroundings.  The fear hadn’t yet left his eyes, which Ze noted with a sigh.  It wasn’t safe for him now.  Chilled would most likely break his connections with Ze, difficult considering their day jobs on the internet, but that would mean Ze was on his own again.  Strangely enough, he felt upset by thinking that, although he supposed it had been three years since they started working together.  Of course, he was bound to feel some emotional connection by now.  Wordlessly, Ze helped Chilled inside, taking the back entrance to keep out of the view of anyone else.

“Ze?  I- um, I’m not going to – um…” Chilled whispered once they were inside Ze’s apartment.  Ze braced himself for the inevitable.  Chilled took in a deep breath of air.  “I’m not gon–gonna hold it against you.  I-if you don’t want to let this get in the way of – um, of us talking and working together.  I – I’m willing to talk things out.”

Ze paused.  He had been caught off guard by this.  He motioned for Chilled to give him a second and without looking back, ran off to get another towel and an old T-shirt, see as Chilled had left his at the mansion.  He grabbed some bandages from his bathroom as well as a bottle of rubbing alcohol and returned to the living area to see Chilled awkwardly standing where he had been left.  Still in silence, Ze dabbed some rubbing alcohol on the large cuts, but let Chilled put on the bandages himself.  The heat of the moment intimacy had vanished and everything seemed tense and fragile, like a glass statue.

“Ze?” Chilled asked with a worried tone, even as Ze handed him the T-shirt, the logo on it too faded to read and made a minuscule gesture towards the couch.  “D-do you want-“

Ze sealed his lips with a quick kiss.  “Tomorrow,” he smiled at Chilled, warmed by his – his _friend’s_ forgiveness.  Not just accomplice or coworker, not anymore.  Chilled smiled back and lightly touched Ze’s shoulder in a gesture of thanks.

“Tomorrow is a new day, friend.”


	2. Label Me "Fallen For You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected sequel chapter apparently? Day after scenario.  
> Also I learned how to use AO3 now maybe I hope.

Blood was everywhere, stained on the old floorboards, glistening in the dim light of a moon that wasn't really there, and surrounding the lone figure on the floor. Blood poured from his wrists, his head, his mouth, a never-ending waterfall of agony that bleached his skin until he had no more color left to give. He was glowing now, the blood like oil against his skin.

He was crying, but his tears were acid, burning away not only the garnet rivers but the floor beneath him. He was falling and drowning, in all the blood that choked him, filled his throat, sealed his eyes shut. _"Ze,"_ the voice echoed. How could he speak through all the blood? He was choking, dying. _"Ze!"_ It was all fading, no, god no, please somebody help him! "Goddammit Steven, wake the fuck up!"

Steven opened his eyes, still petrified from his dream, to find Anthony with his hand up, about to slap him in a last-ditch attempt to rouse him from sleep. "I'm awake, I'm awa- _ow!_ " Anthony had apparently not realized it before, but he most certainly did now. "You fucking asshole! I said I was awake!"

"Yeah, after choking on nothing for ten minutes straight!" Anthony snapped. For the first time, Steven realized his friend was shaking. "I - I thought you had gotten hurt somehow and you weren't waking up but you weren't breathing right and - fuck it! I was scared, okay? I didn't know what was happening, if you needed to be taken to the hospital or - or -" Anthony broke off his sentence early, tilting his head back and drawing in long, rhythmic breaths to calm himself down. Steven was still, letting the severity of the situation fully sink in. From an outside perspective, it might have looked like he was on the verge of death. Even though it was only a dream, the appearance of the incident scared Steven a little more than he would ever care to admit.

"Hey," Steven paused slightly. He didn't know how to do this comforting shit. "I'm - I'm alright. Just a nightmare. It's not like that's the first time it's ever happened before." Anthony didn't seem to be getting any calmer, but he sat down gingerly on the edge of Steven's bed and bowed his head, clasped in his hands. Steven awkwardly patted his back, absently noticing that Anthony's hair was slightly damp. He must have taken a shower while Steven was still asleep, not surprising considering that it was about eleven in the morning already. He wouldn't have been surprised if Anthony had killed someone else on his own in the time he had been sleeping in. "Dude, it's okay if you sit like a normal person you know. You don't have to perch on the edge of the bed like I'm gonna burn you if you get too close."

"No, no, I should, um, I should be making lunch or something anyway," Anthony said, pressing his hands to his eyes. When he tried to stand up, however, Steven reached out and grabbed his wrists, pulling him back down. Anthony gave him a cornered look, like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

"Just because you're Italian doesn't mean you have to spend all your time in the kitchen," Steven teased, hoping the joke would help fracture the tense atmosphere. Thankfully Anthony chuckled, his shoulders relaxing just enough to let Steven know that they were on safe ground once again. "Hey, wanna have that talk after I get dressed? I would prefer to get it over with now, but I would also prefer not to do it half naked in bed. Too many bad scenarios. It sounds like a crappy fanfiction."

Anthony cringed. "Please don't remind me. One time of reading them was about ten times too many. I just don't get the people who write those. Anyway, um, I guess I'll wait for you in the living room then?" Anthony didn't wait for an answer and got up swiftly to leave, perhaps expecting Steven to stop him. He didn't, nor would he have. He may like Anthony, but he wasn't at the point of going full nude on him yet.

Once he was dressed in clothes that could be considered socially acceptable for going out in public, Steven left his room and joined Anthony to where he sat in the living room, tucked up in one corner of the couch as though he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"How is that every time we're over at each other's places, we each sprawl out everywhere as if we own the whole world but now you're acting like you're being held hostage. Relax. Do I have to explain the definition of relaxing to you?" Steven sighed and sat down next to Anthony.  It was never usually like this.

 On the crime scene compared to at home, they were both like completely separate people. Ze and Chilled were restricted, silent, adept with knives, and almost sociopathic. At home, when they were Anthony and Steven, they were free with words and movements, brash, empathetic, and clumsy with even the dullest kitchen knife. Steven had to resist the urge to chuckle aloud as he recalled the time he had accidentally cut his hand with a knife while chopping vegetables and spent more time reassuring Anthony that "I'm going to be fine, you don't need to call a goddamn ambulance, just get me a fucking towel or something until you can find some bandages" than he had actually bleeding. It was almost kind of hilarious looking back on it until Steven realized that there was a pattern.

Every time Steven became Ze, Anthony became Chilled. It was never Chilled asking Ze for when would be a good time to strike, it was always the opposite. Anthony usually came back first, bringing Steven back down from the manic euphoria, grounding him, making sure he was safe. Neither Anthony or Chilled had ever once laid a harsh hand on Steven, even putting his needs before his own. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Steven looked at Anthony's face and they both knew that everything was slowly connecting now.

"I broke up with Jess two months ago," Anthony finally broke the heavy silence. "Or, well, she dumped me. Said she found someone else, someone who would spend more time with her. I let her go. I let her go because I knew I would always have you."

Steven felt his throat close. "Fuck you, you know I don't do sentiment," he choked out, trying to force a half-assed smile onto his face and failing. "Shit Anthony, what do I fucking say to this? Of course I like you, but what the hell do you want from me?"

Anthony frowned. "You're asking me? I don't even know who the fuck I am anymore. Am I Chilled, the serial killer that takes care of everything tactical in our operations? One-half of the duo the FBI doesn't even know they want yet? Or am I Anthony, the guy who dicks around on the internet for his daytime living? And is that all Anthony is? Just some hopeless guy in a fragile job who may like his best friend, but is too afraid to actually think about it?" He sighed shakily and started scratching at his arms, a nervous habit to which Steven never turned a blind eye.

"Hey, quit that," Steven rested a gentle hand over Anthony's. "You're gonna hurt yourself more."

"Like you didn't do that enough last night," Anthony muttered, although there was no venom behind his words. However, he did let his hands fall, down, down, trapping Steven's fingers in his own. In that moment, everything seemed much less of a whirlwind and more of a lazy river ride. If Steven let himself relax, he could believe that he and Anthony were here, together. Apparently, there was a mutual attraction between them, but both were too scared to figure out if they wanted a label, or just wanted to be AnthonyandSteven.

Did love even needed to be defined by a label? Labels were what gave Ze and Chilled passion to rise and slaughter. Labels of drug dealers, rapists, gang members, even the occasional mafia group that let the tiniest bit of information slip that led to Chilled being able to track down and pick them off one by one. Labels were what made Ze upset, they even infuriated Steven sometimes. He didn't want to be known for what he did, he wanted to be known for himself. Why should this frightening, cobweb thin cover of feelings be any different – why should he want a label for it? Was it the pride that came with calling someone your boyfriend? Was it the claim that would be staked, screaming that this person belonged to you so that you wouldn't have to experience heartbreak when they inevitably found someone else? But surely that was too selfish for love, wasn't it?

Or perhaps the desire for this label was a certain sense of security. It was binding, a spoken pact that you weren't even aware you were signing, but that made you closer than ever before. It was pride, and a claim, but the root of it all was the safety that came from always knowing there was someone there to catch you.

"I think I really love you," Steven blurted out, not allowing himself time to think about his words. "And I don't know if you want to, but I want you to be my boyfriend so I can wake up to your eyes and your voice and your smile. It doesn't even matter if we call ourselves that, I just want to be with you."

Anthony was silent. _Holy shit I fucked up, no, no, no, he's gonna think I'm a freak what the hell am I gonna do..._

"Y'know, I'm thinking we should retire from this whole murder business," Anthony said casually, before turning to Steven with a smile on his face.  He was beaming, glowing.  Steven had never seen him so content before. "I'm gonna need some more time to spend with you."

"Oh. Oh, god. Oh, holy fuck, yes, please," Steven felt tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. "Anthony I fucking love you." Masculinity be damned, he was a gay, sobbing mess right now because everything was gonna work itself out since now he had the greatest human being on the planet by his side. A big, lovable dork who was hugging him and seriously, this must be what heaven felt like, to have your biggest dream come true in just a couple hours. He would throw away every knife he owned for Anthony, burn down their tools for murder, and forget about the bodies they had hidden together, just for this moment to be preserved for all eternity.

"I love you too, Steven."

Labels.

They were binding, constricting, evil. Viewed by society as necessary, to warn people of danger. They could be fabricated, twisted, and conformed to what was expected of you.

Then again, they weren't all bad. There was one in particular that Steven loved to say, at any given point. Watching a movie on the couch, playing a video game together, curled up in bed with heat and sweat.

Boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> It was finished on Halloween for the western part of the U.S. that's all that matters.  
> I was listening to the Fall Out Boy Ghostbusters remix for too long while I was writing this. Also, I've never actually written a Youtuber fanfiction before so holy crap?? What?? I have no clue what I'm doing. This is just a short story so I don't know if I'll write a sequel chapter, but I'm pretty happy with this for what it is.
> 
> Also My Chem title reference yeeeeeeeeeee boi


End file.
